Say That Something
by adi-rotynd
Summary: If Kurt can't hold his father's hand, he can - for what it's worth - hold everyone else's. For a prompt.


**Spoilers:** Up to 2.03.  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Homophobia, mentions bullying, family illness.   
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> RIB and FOX own everything ever.

Enjoy, and by all means review should it strike your fancy, my best beloveds.~

* * *

><p>It was, like most things glee club did as a group, Rachel's idea. It was also, unlike anything the glee club had done as a group aside from some dance moves which Sue Sylvester had probably originated, instigated by Brittany.<p>

* * *

><p>1 &amp; 2: Brittany and Santana<p>

"Check," Santana said, capping her lipstick and closing her locker door enough that Brittany could see her without leaning around it.

Brittany nodded. "Perfect," she said.

Santana sighed. "You're going too high with the eyeliner. Give me that." She snatched the applicator and took Brittany's chin, trying to angle her face. It didn't turn. "What, Britt?"

"It's Kurt. He looks super sad."

Santana turned. Hummel was walking down the hallway, pale and oblivious. "I'll say. We need to figure out who told him red was his color and hurt them," she said, eying his coat of the day with distaste. "He looks translucent, and it's a huge turn-off."

"I think he's just gay, not translucent," Brittany said, already heading towards him. "Hi, Kurt."

"Hello, Brittany… Santana," he said warily, but at least now he seemed aware of the general existence of the hallway and the presence within it of other people. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I thought of something," Brittany said proudly, and reached through the strap of his messenger bag to take his hand.

Kurt eyed Santana for signs of violence, then turned to Brittany. "Okay, Britt, you know how we discussed—several times—my being capital-G gay after all, despite my brief flirtation with flannel, and remember we had to break up because you deserve someone who's capable of appreciating your admittedly truly fantastic body on more than a purely aesthetic level? None of that's changed."

"I know." Brittany threaded her fingers more tightly through his. "You're still totally fine and I am going to tap that someday, but I just want to tell you something. So Santana and I will walk you to class." She leaned her head against his.

Santana considered other options, options that would make Coach Sylvester proud, like maybe cutting that godawful coat off him or locking him in a classroom with Brittany so that her best girl could satisfy this weird fixation on the gayest kid in Ohio and move on, but: 1) He had just sung that _song_, and _cried_, and Britt had sniffled too, 2) His dad was in the hospital, which was sad even if it made her feel uncomfortable thinking about it, and 3) He was holding her Britt's hand back.

So what she ended up doing was saying, "I'll carry your books," and grabbing them. She could see Brittany's report on heart attacks peeking out of his binder.

She reached down and took his other hand.

"What did you want to tell me, Britt?" Kurt asked, voice thick, as they resumed walking.

Brittany swung his hand. "This."

* * *

><p>3: Rachel<p>

"Fellow glee clubbers, if I may pose a question." Rachel spun in place to face them; even Mr. Schue was sitting with the-group-less-Kurt-and-Santana-and-Brittany. The floor was hers. "What is the most important way in which we communicate, as human beings?"

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and say speech, but I have a feeling that's not what you're after," Mercedes said disparagingly.

"You are correct, both in that speech is very important and in that it is not the answer I'm looking for. Aside from speech, what is the most important way –"

"Song," Quinn said. "Alright? You win. We'll have an All Musical Day or whatever you're after. Can we not discuss this right now? None of us are in the mood."

"_Aside from speech and song_," Rachel persevered.

"Dance?" Mike said hopefully. Artie nodded, realized whom he was agreeing with, and stopped.

"Aside from speech and song and dance."

"Okay, Rachel, maybe you should just tell us," Mr. Schue said.

"Touch," Rachel said triumphantly. "Did you know that human contact can actually reduce physiological stressor responses? Friendship is like a built-in defense against the world becoming too overwhelming, and physical contact is part of that. There is substantial evidence that human touch is the first language we learn and remains one of the most powerful, even unaccompanied by words."

Puck grinned. "That's what I keep saying."

"This isn't about your sex drive," Quinn snapped. "Rachel, please tell me this isn't about Puck's sex drive."

"This is about Kurt, obviously," Rachel said.

"Guys, she said friendship, remember?"

"Thank you, Mr. Schue. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted by Noah's constant need to think about procreation: Friendly touch releases oxytocin, a hormone that helps create a feeling of trust, and it reduces stress hormones. It actually physically changes what's going on in the brain, freeing up the prefrontal areas for problem-solving instead of regulating emotion. In short, a warm touch is the simplest way of saying, 'I'm here for you.' " She beamed. "I have printouts."

Finn raised his hand. "Is this going to a group-hug place? Because Kurt wouldn't let me touch him earlier. I think he might smack me like you did that once, and he wouldn't have to reach as much, so it'd probably hurt more."

"Puckzilla does not group hug."

"Guys, let's hear Rachel out."

"Thank you again, Mr. Schue. To cut to the chase, due to a confluence of factors including Mercedes's words before she sang 'I Look to You', which expressed her inability to decide what she wanted to say to Kurt; Kurt's choice of song; and the fact that I just saw Brittany and Santana hanging off Kurt in the hallway, I have come to a realization. I think we can all agree that the tragedy in Kurt's life right now makes us uneasy, which further complicates the already difficult task of deciding how to behave around him and how to communicate with him, and that his lack of belief in a higher power makes him difficult to comfort, and honestly, that his brusque attitude makes even having a conversation with him something of a challenge."

"Okay, princess, you better have a point you're coming to right now, or I will cut you," Mercedes said. "Kurt doesn't need you badmouthing him behind his back right now."

"Honesty is not badmouthing. My point, Mercedes, is this: As much as we all want to say to Kurt, I think it boils down essentially to one thing. We want him to know we're there for him, that he's not alone." She smiled her _this is my master plan and it is perfect _smile. "I want every single one of us to have held Kurt's hand before the week is out."

"No way," Puck said, already standing. "I'm not stimulating any hormones in his brain. If you all need to plan your big gay sleepover, that's cool, but I have to go restore some order in this school if the cheerleaders are walking around macking on Hummel. Gives the other nerds ideas."

"Noah!"

"Puck," Mr. Schue protested, but Puck waved and let the door close behind him.

"Yeah, Rachel?" Finn shook his head. "It's a really good plan, I definitely think Kurt could use more oxy-clean or whatever, but... Kurt's being super bitchy right now."

"I don't actually know Kurt all that well," Mike said. "He might freak out if I try to hold his hand. I kind of helped Puck throw him in a dumpster once."

"I think it's sort of sweet," Quinn said grudgingly. "If we can't talk to him, and our song choices are just going to make him insult us and blaspheme about laser dwarfs…"

Mercedes looked from her to Tina, who shrugged, and finally said, "Okay, it's not the worst plan you've ever had."

"Excellent! Then we're on. I was thinking maybe we could look at our schedules…"

* * *

><p>This had been the last straw, and she'd lost her audience, as they preferred spontaneity. Spontaneity was, to Rachel's mind, another way of saying that it probably wouldn't get done, but at least Kurt would have her, even if everyone else was ridiculously set against letting her finish mapping out her master plan in his interests.<p>

She caught up with him on the way out of school and realized belatedly that, outside of glee, she didn't really talk to him, or he didn't really talk to her, and this was actually kind of awkward when they weren't inside the choir room. He might think she was planning vengeance for the _Grease_ Incident. Then she remembered he probably wasn't capable of thinking about that, and after all why not, seize the day, right, and she ran forward and grabbed his hand.

"Kurt," she said, "hi."

"Rachel." He looked at her, and at their hands, and at her again. "…Hello?" His eyes narrowed. "Did Finn put you up to this? Because I really can't deal with his tragedy right now. I'm sure it was very upsetting to not be the first person everyone thought of when _my father_ had a heart attack, but oddly, I can't bring myself to care all that much."

"No, no, this isn't about Finn."

They reached his car, which he'd started driving again while his dad was in the hospital, and Kurt stopped. He laughed a little. It sounded like it hurt, and also kind of mean. "Well, either you're lying or that's the first time either of us has been able to honestly say that to the other."

"I'm not lying. Listen, Kurt, I know you don't like me very much, and we've fought in the past, and I know I don't understand what you're going through. But…" she held his hand tighter.

Kurt leaned back against his car, and after a minute she did too.

"It's warmer here," she said.

Kurt nodded. "No one had better see us," he said. "Your skirt is probably an international offense against fashion, and I don't want to be caught in the crossfire when the SWAT team skydives in."

She laid her head back against the window and closed her eyes. And after a minute, he did too.

* * *

><p>4 &amp; 5: Quinn and Mercedes<p>

"Well, now I know I'm overtired," Kurt said, "because I'm hallucinating."

"We brought food." Quinn brandished a grocery bag. "It's all stuff you can eat."

"Kurt," Mercedes said, voice catching. "I told her you wouldn't be here."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I be at home? It's one in the morning."

"It's one-thirty, actually," Quinn said, managing to push past him into the house despite his obvious desire to keep them out and, with a smile and a hand on his arm, make it look maternal rather than bitchy.

"I thought you were staying with Finn and his mom until your dad got out," Mercedes said, following them in and absently closing the door behind her. "You could have stayed with me, you know that, right?"

"No," he said hastily. "I mean…. No, I'm not staying with Carole and Finn. I haven't been. She asked, but I said… anyway, no. But I'll keep your offer in mind for next time," and he stopped, and swallowed, and grabbed Quinn's bag. "Kitchen's through here."

"What do you need help with?" Quinn asked, following him in. "Here." She took the bag back and pushed him into a seat. "I'll start by putting these away."

"Nothing," he said. "Everything's fine."

"Kurt," Mercedes said. "You don't have to stay here alone, you know that. Why don't you grab a bag and we'll go to my place? You know we got the room, and my mom loves you."

"I'm not. I mean, it's just for a few days."

Mercedes knew him well enough to hear the warnings in his voice – a little too high, way too tight – that meant he was about two seconds from not being able to hide his panic at all. "But," she said as gently as she could, "maybe just for tonight –"

"No," Quinn said softly, putting a container of something disgusting and tan that only a Cheerio or Kurt would eat into the fridge, "I get it. No one wants… it's better to be home. You know what, though, it's really late and I'm exhausted. Do you mind if we sleep here tonight, Kurt?"

He smiled at her blearily. "Okay."

* * *

><p>They didn't end up sleeping, for the most part. They watched a few romantic comedies and Kurt made popcorn that only Mercedes ate (and she didn't eat much, because he used hardly any butter and no salt, so it was kind of gross), and Quinn said he'd obviously been letting himself go and gave him a facial to make up for it. At four in the morning they were watching something in Spanish about some lady whose daughter had killed a man, and the lady thought her mom was dead but really she wasn't, and the mom was hiding in a car watching the daughter sing to <em>her<em> daughter, and Kurt started crying. It was the silent, still-almost-in-control kind, not the kind he needed, but Mercedes thought she got it now, and that maybe if he let go that much tonight, there would be no putting him back together.

She took one of his hands between both of hers, and Quinn took the other one and stroked it. The woman onscreen sang, "Vivir/ Con el alma aferrada/ A un dulce recuerdo…" and her mother cried.

* * *

><p>6: Tina<p>

Tina was painfully shy, but she'd been working on it with glee club, and Kurt was in glee club, and he was her friend, so she didn't think holding his hand should be a big deal. Yes, Jacob Ben Israel had managed to convince the entire school that she was dating Mike Chang based on their holding hands (and Artie's expression when he saw it, and okay, they were in fact dating, so that probably contributed somewhere along the line), but holding hands still wasn't, in and of itself, a big deal.

And on the other hand, she didn't know how Kurt would react to her trying to cozy up to him – but apparently he had made up with Mercedes and Quinn, and they were probably more religious than she was – Mercedes had even made him go to church.

So the problem was that she wanted to just walk up and grab his hand like it was no big deal, except then he might make it a big deal because she had just walked up and grabbed him even though they were probably kind of fighting right now, at least last time she saw him he was throwing her out of his dad's hospital room, but if she asked if she could hold his hand then it had to be a big deal because if you had to ask, plainly it's a thing, as opposed to a non-thing…

This was the kind of thinking that got her faking a stutter for half her life.

Tina closed her eyes, pretended this was a play and while she was world famous for her dancing (and maybe her singing, she wasn't quite sure yet), she did have this small acting part too, as a favor to some hugely important director who was madly in love with her and had made her his muse. And her line was:

"Kurt, hey, how are you holding up?" Okay, not the most glamorous dialogue ever.

"Tina," he said, and she lost track of the whole fantasy. He almost looked normal, except for that little breath thing he did before talking when he was upset, but his dad was in the hospital and he didn't have anyone else. "Tell me this isn't about my ratting you all out to Figgins for questionable sanity, because I really can't do that song and dance at the moment."

"No," she said, and thought it was a dick move still and that if nothing else tipped Kurt off to that fact, Coach Sylvester's involvement should have, but that probably was not a conversation she should have at the moment, especially if that was as close as he could come to an apology. "Is it okay if I hold your hand?"

He frowned. "All right, wait," he said. "Is it just me, or is there a trend here?"

Tina panicked. "It was Rachel's idea, she said we were having trouble communicating with you properly and then she saw Santana and Brittany holding your hands, s-so she thought maybe if we… all did… um." She shrugged. "I'm still kind of mad at you," she confided, and held her hand out. "But you're my friend, Kurt."

"You are so lucky I like you more than I loathe Rachel Berry," he said, and grabbed her hand. "Oh my Gaga, what are these gloves made out of? I'm not sure I should touch it. I'm allergic to cheap."

"I know for a fact you bought those shoes for like twelve bucks at a thrift store."

"I'm never confiding in Mercedes again. And incidentally, these boots are Jimmy Choo. There's cheap, and then there's _cheap_. It's not my fault this town doesn't know limited edition when it has it."

"Preaching to the choir," she said.

"Mm-hm." He squeezed her hand and let go. "Incidentally, that is, as skirts go, not entirely offensive."

"Really? Thanks." Tina beamed. "I like your scarf. Hey, do you want to come over to my house tonight? We could invite Mercedes, it'd be just us again. I feel like maybe I'm spending more time with Mike than –"

"No," he said. "Thanks, but I can't. The hospital might… I can't. And I'm late for class now." He hurried off the way he did sometimes, like he was done so you just sort of stopped existing, but turned at the end of the hallway to wave. All things considered, Tina called it a win.

* * *

><p>7: Artie<p>

When Artie caught up to Kurt on the way to the choir room and grabbed him, Kurt spent a good few seconds staring at their hands before saying faintly, "This is the Rachel thing. She got the _guys _to do it?"

Artie shrugged. "Actually, no? Not most of us, officially. But you looked really sad. Anyway, I don't think most of the school realizes I have a sex drive at all, so probably this won't get either of us beaten up. Plus, I won't expect you to talk about your feelings."

"To be fair, neither did Rachel or Tina. Mostly we talked about their clothes." Kurt's hand was still just sort of lying dead in his, but talk of clothing seemed to bring him to life, and he held onto Artie for a second before tugging free and moving behind him to push his chair.

"Hey, _do_ you want to talk about your feelings?"

"No," Kurt said tonelessly. "I'd really rather not. Thanks, though."

"That's what I'm here for."

"I get that." Kurt patted his shoulder and gave him a last push into the choir room.

* * *

><p>8: Mike<p>

That night, Kurt's dad woke up, and the next day they sang "One of Us", which Kurt was fine with. Mike privately thought it was because the dude was high on relief and not making good decisions, but either way, Tina forgave him for conspiring with Coach Sylvester, so then she started pressuring him to hold Kurt's hand.

"But it's too late," he said. "Mr. Hummel's awake."

"Yeah, Kurt's dad is awake, just after a heart-attack and a coma. Kurt's going back to the hospital after school today."

"Right!"

"Mike. He needs support right now, and I know that my abtastic boyfriend is not afraid to hold someone's hand."

"I think it'll make him nervous," Mike sighed, shaking his head at the folly of female kind but already giving in.

"Explain right away that you're not going to toss him in a dumpster. That'll break the ice."

* * *

><p>So: "Hey, Kurt," Mike called, jogging to catch up to him on the way out of school.<p>

"Yes?" Kurt looked at him the way the loser half of glee club looked at the other half when they spoke outside of the choir room.

"I'm not going to toss you in a dumpster," Mike said proudly.

Kurt took a step backward. "That was a suspiciously specific denial." He checked his watch. "I don't have time for this, Chang, I have to go see my dad. You're actually going to have to chase me down, and I know that breaks the code and calls for a severe beating or whatever you Neanderthals think will reestablish order, but can you maybe do it tomorrow morning?"

"Do you really think I'd toss you in a dumpster, after everything? I kind of told Tina that to get out of holding your hand in public."

Kurt stared at him for a second, expressionless in a way that usually meant someone had a lot to express, then turned and walked out the door.

Mike vacillated, but decided it wasn't worth Tina getting even pissier than she already was about their date schedule. He charged out after Kurt and caught up with him at his car. Kurt ignored him and got in. Mike sighed and ran around to knock on the passenger's side glass.

"Don't," Kurt said irritably, rolling the window down a little. "You'll smear her."

"Let me ride with you. I can help."

"Really? With what?"

"Um…"

"Exactly. Look, Mike, I like you. I think you're probably a really great guy, I know for a fact you're an incredibly talented dancer, and I'm always pleased to spend time with you on glee-related issues. But if you think I'm letting a jock into my car, you're sadly mistaken."

"You let Finn in your car all the time!"

"And you're done," Kurt snapped, going to roll the window back up.

Mike stuck his hand in to stop him, then regretted it and yelped. Kurt gasped and jammed the button the other way.

"Oh damn it. You are so lucky I didn't go with the rest of my plan for storming off." Kurt scooted over to the passenger's side and opened the door, grabbing Mike's hand to look at his fingers. "I was going to start the car and tear out of here without looking at you. I could have dragged you by the fingertips for blocks. Can you move them?"

"Yeah, they're fine." Mike grinned triumphantly and closed his hand around Kurt's, shaking them together in Kurt's face. "I win."

Kurt snorted, concern evaporating, and tried to yank away.

"Hey, Kurt," Mike said, not letting go. "You should know…"

"What? Clock's ticking."

"I really wouldn't ever throw you in a dumpster again. Or even help someone else do it."

Kurt studied him for a long time. "Okay," he said. "Good for you."

"And, um. We're in glee together, so. If you need anything." He shook their hands.

"Okay," Kurt said again.

"Okay." Mike let go. "Later, Hummel."

* * *

><p>9: Puck<p>

Noach Puckerman, the Puckasaurus, did not have a problem with slushying people in theory. But seriously, slushying a dude whose dad was still in the hospital? Low.

And Mike Chang had been insulting his man-ness, saying if he could hold Hummel's hand, Puck should be able to, unless he was afraid there was going to be something there he liked.

So he saw Karofsky headed Kurt's way with a slushy and killed two birds with one stone.

Karofsky dropped the slushy on his own shoes and stared.

Kurt looked at him with that uncanny deer-in-headlights thing he could do.

Puck yanked on his hand. "Just keep walking."

* * *

><p>10: Will<p>

"Kurt, can you hang on a second?"

Kurt stopped, checked his watch, and nodded, waving to Mercedes as she followed the last kids out the door after rehearsal. "What is it, Mr. Schue? I don't have a lot of time, my dad gets out tonight and I want to re-arrange the living room to make sure he won't have to move." He looked a little bit crazed, but happier than Will had seen him in weeks, so he didn't mention the crazy part.

"Yeah, about that, for example. Could you use some muscle?" Kurt looked genuinely puzzled. Will laughed. "Oh, ouch. I meant me, Kurt."

"I'm confused. Not about your relative usefulness in the furniture moving business, I'm sure you're very strong," Kurt's eyes flicked dubiously over his chest "—under those cries for help you call vests—but about why you're offering."

"I'd just like to do something… concrete to help out." Will ran a hand through his hair. "I don't think we were very supportive to you this week. I think we failed you as a club, and that I failed you as an educator. You shouldn't have had to go to Sue Sylvester, of all people, before me. You shouldn't have felt like you had to, and that you did feel that way was my fault." He winced. "And I'm doing it again. I also know that you like Sue, and I don't mean to badmouth her in front of you."

"Oh," Kurt said quietly.

Will waited a minute, then stopped bracing himself. "That's it? No scathing indictment of my conduct over the past year and change?"

Kurt shrugged. "I'm too tired," he said, voice thin.

"So let me help," Will said.

"Thanks, Mr. Schue," Kurt said, "I mean, really – I appreciate the offer. But I want this to be something I've done for him myself."

Will hesitated, but said, "Okay. Is there something else, then?"

"No, really. Everything's fine now."

"All right," Will sighed. "Let me know if you change your mind."

"Absolutely." Kurt nodded and moved to go.

Will caught his shoulder. "One more thing. I think Rachel's idea was a good one – or at least well-intentioned. I'm stumbling mentally over the idea of holding hands with a student, but I'd really like to hug you, if that's okay."

"That's sort of an odd place to draw a line," Kurt pointed out. "Dirty dancing and hugging are a-okay, but hand-holding is just too skeezy? But sure."

"Good." Will smiled, almost relieved to have the sniping back. He pulled Kurt over and wrapped his arms around him. Kurt dropped his head onto Will's shoulder and hugged him back with the ease of a kid used to physical affection, and Will's heart about broke thinking how close Kurt had come to losing the only person he could depend on for it.

Then Kurt sniffled audibly and jerked away. "I really have to go," he said.

"Kurt," Will said. "I don't mind if you cry."

"Well, I do." Kurt wiped his face and let the door bang shut behind him.

* * *

><p>11: Finn<p>

Kurt opened the door, and looked like he just might shut it point-blank.

"Dude, come on," Finn pleaded.

Kurt sighed and gestured for him to come in. "He's asleep," he whispered.

"Can I just see him? Like, a peek? I'll be super quiet."

"He's on the couch," Kurt said coldly, gesturing through. "You know the way out. Wake him up and I will poison your taco surprise on Thursday. If I can find saffron, I can find something more poisonous than the taco surprise." He disappeared back into his room.

The living room looked a little different from what Finn was used to, but the couch was in pretty much the same spot. Burt was passed out cold on it. He looked pale and scary, but it was a lot less intimidating in the dude's own house than it was when surrounded by machines and funky smells.

Finn listened to him breathing on his own for a while, then steeled himself and clomped down the stairs to the basement.

"Hey," he said.

"How is he?" Kurt got up from his desk.

"Still sleeping. He's fine. He looks better here than he did in the hospital."

"I think so too. Is that all? I have a metric ton of homework to do."

"Yeah," Finn said, and then called on his inner Rachel Berry Voice, which was telling him not to back down just because Kurt was short with him, because if he let a little displeasure rule his life he'd never have one, and said, "No. I'm actually really worried about you. So I'm going to stay here for a while."

"Finn," Kurt said, sitting back down, "I cannot deal with you right now."

"I'm not asking you to." Finn walked over. "I was kind of thinking I could deal with you."

"Excuse me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, no offense, but you're kind of a drama queen, and you haven't been all that dramatic about this yet. I'm pretty sure you're super tired and angry and scared, and it's probably even less healthy for you to bottle that up than for a normal person, so you know… go ahead. Let it out."

Kurt stared at him. "…No. No. I'm starting to wonder if calling me a fag was an attempt at an endearment, rather than the homophobic slur I naturally assumed it to be, given that I'm fairly certain you're honestly trying to help me right now, and you just said about three offensive things in as many sentences. So no, Finn Hudson, I am not going to 'let it out' to you, of all people. I cannot think of anyone I would like _less_ to 'let it out' to."

"Puck?" Finn tried, hoping for a laugh.

"I never had a crush on Puck. I never roomed with Puck. Puck never called me a fag in front of my father. Puck isn't the perfect, straight son my father was expecting. Puck doesn't think he can just decide to be my family apropos of an ill-advised mid-life crisis relationship between our parents. And Puck didn't kick off this week of religious persecution just when I could really have used glee club not being the most contentious part of my day. So while obviously not my first choice, yes, he is ahead of you."

"Wow," Finn said. "I sound really shitty when you say it like that."

Kurt sort of crumpled into his chair. "Yeah, me too. Subtextually, but still."

"… I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know." He smiled a little, a watery version of the _Finn Hudson, you are so damn cute_ smile, hopefully not in a crush-having way.

Finn sat down on the floor by his legs. "I made a Grilled Cheesus last week," he said. "And I thought it was answering all my prayers, but then Miss Pillsbury said it wasn't real. Sorry it was such bad timing."

"…I'm just not going to ask right now."

"How do you cope with this? I feel so alone and meaningless."

"I have him," Kurt said, gesturing upstairs. "You're not alone, Finn. You have your mom. And, so help me, Rachel."

"And," Finn said, and stopped, and put his hand on Kurt's knee, palm up. For a long time Kurt didn't take it, and then he did. Finn thought Rachel was wrong, because it didn't communicate anything really – he didn't know if Kurt was saying "Yes, you have me" or "I forgive you for everything" or "Maybe if I do this you'll go away sooner."

"Are you sure you don't want to have a break-down?"

"Too much homework."

"Alright." Finn sighed and stood up. "I'm gonna go make a snack. I'll be right back."

"What? Why?"

"I'm not going anywhere, dude, and I have to eat. I'm staying at least until you're done with your homework." He paused. "Okay?"

Kurt dropped his head into his arms. "Okay," he said, the sound muffled.

Finn reached over and ruffled his hair tentatively. "Good. I'll be right back."

"I'm starting to see that."


End file.
